The Elder Scrolls V: The life of Tyr and Tor (Part 1)
by Sylver13
Summary: Fanfiction of Skyrim, following the story of Tyr and Tor Whitemane, sons of Kodlak. One, destined to be a Companion. One, a Thief. Both, soon to be Stormcloaks. What could go wrong? ((Rated M for Violence, Language, Death, Suggestive Themes and Alcohol Consumption/Possible Drug Content))


The day had been quiet thus far...Most of the residents throughout the hold of Whiterun had made their way -to- Whiterun itself. There was supposed to be some sort of celebration of sorts through the streets, and so Riverwood, Rorikstead and most of the Hunter camps along the way were rather deserted or quiet. So quiet in fact, that most of the wildlife that normally roamed the thicker woodsy part of the Hold felt it was safe enough to explore the rest of the area since the citizens were otherwise occupied. In particular, one elk sulked about Riverwood just beyond the treeline...Alone, for all it knew. Never did it expect the bulky and looming shadow of a man behind a tree just some yards behind it. Nor did it even expect the quick death that would come it's way once the Nordic Man with a mess of brown hair framing his determined face drew his trusty iron sword and began to approach it as silently as his armor would allow. It would have worked, had he not stepped on a few twigs just out of arms reach of the Elk. The resonating snap that sounded once his boot met wood made the Elk stand at attention and turn face to face with Tor Whitemane, and bleat out in annoyance and fear. Before the Nordic man was able to let the blade slash into pelt, an arrow whizzed straight past Tor's jaw; So close it could have shaven a nick of his beard away. But it found it's mark right in the neck of the Elk, who cried out in pain and fell to the earth limp and lifeless.

"Hircine be damned, Tyr, not again!" Tor yelled over his shoulder into the shadow of the Treeline, his thick Nordic accent twinged with a touch of annoyance. He sheathed his blade on his hip and jerked the arrow out of the Elk's fur. As he turned around, there wasn't a man nor woman in sight, though a voice called back out nowhere.

"What?! It isn't my fault you're losing your touch!" The other Nordic voice, with a much thinner accent, called back out. This voice could only belong to the one Tor referred to as 'Tyr'. "I just so happen to have been able to do this job more effectively than yourself!" He cackled from the treeline.

"Dammit Tyr, you didn't do anything better! That was robbery! You stole my kill, again! I'll have ya' ass for that one. An iron boot with your name on it down here!" Tor called back and grunted.

"Brother, pray tell, if that were your kill..." Tyr spoke back and fell from his tree-branch cover to land on his feet on the ground. He stood up straight and pushed the mess of Auburn hair out of his face to reveal a smirk as he finished his reply. "Then why in the name of Hircine did I bag it?"

"Bullshit, that's why." Tor grunted and tossed Tyr's arrow back to him, who stuff it in a leather quiver on his back. Tor just grabbed the Elk by his horns and began dragging him back toward Riverwood. Once they made it back to their home, as the two obviously lived together out on their own, Tor took the Elk to the shed beside their home where he kept and skinned their beasts. Of course he never kept more than one dead animal at a time there, nor did he let them stay there more than one sun's rotation as to keep the smell from getting overwhelming, but for now there were more pressing matters to attend to.

"Hurry up, Tor. They should be arriving back anytime now." Tyr called, and began jogging off toward Whiterun. Apparently something was going on, and it was a big deal to the pair seeing as Tor quickly took off at his own brisk jog to catch up. The journey to Whiterun wasn't long, but it was anxious. Today was, in fact, a big day for the two.

"What do you think father will have us do, Tyr?" Tor asked curiously. Though they were both in their adult years, this anxiety mixed with the event was enough to make the men as curious as young lads.

"Likely some treacherous plight into one of those Nordic Hero burial sites. They're usually stirring with trouble, are they not?" Tyr inquired. Before Tor was able to give his two septims on the matter, Whiterun unfolded on the horizon. "C'mon, hurry. I see the Companions entering the gate!" Tyr pointed out. There were, in fact, three figures being granted pass into Whiterun. Another quick, short jog forward and they came face to face with the gate-guards.

"Ah, young Whitemane...s! Both of you! Kodlak's boys, yeah? C'mon in, they're just starting the celebration. It's not everyday The Companions are honored for saving the entirety of Whiterun Hold is it?" The Guard said, opening the gates for the two. Immediately inside, there was a line of citizens throwing their celebratory papers bits in the air. They called this anomaly "Confetti" for whatever reason. Just ahead, the esteemed Aela the Huntress, Farkas and his brother Vilkas were stepping briskly through the city with smiles. Well, for the most part. Vilkas and Farkas never really smiled, it seemed.

There were chants of congratulations and thanks on every side, and even a shop keeper or two offered a small sack of septims to them as they passed as thanks. From what Tyr and Tor could hear by the bystanders, there was a fair sized sect of Bandit's setting up camp near Whiterun, and they intended on storming through the city in the name of the Imperials. Whiterun thus far was the only hold not aligned to a side of the civil war. The Companions seemed to see fit that they'd stop such an act, and rightly could have easily saved the city from trouble. Tor seemed to love the idea of the glory. Of doing good for the people he'd grown close to, and even the strangers. Tyr, on the other hand, seemed to have the septims and treasures as the apple of his eye.

"Come. Father should be addressing the Companions in a moment. Then he'll give us our assignment, I'm sure." Tor said and beckoned Tyr along. Together, they strode up to Jorrvaskar behind the other Companions, who entered and went downstairs to get some rest. Kodlak, a man with a heavy resemblance to the pair, stood in the middle of the Hall behind the table where various warriors sat drinking and having dinner.

"My sons. It is an honor that I finally welcome you into Jorrvaskar as not only my sons, but potential Companions. As Harbringer, I cannot show you any special treatment from the rest, and thus must send you on your own initiation. However, the task I am sending you on...requires more than just you two. I am sending you each with a mutual shield-sibling, that one being Ria. She is rearing to prove herself and this assignment will need at least three. There's a fort, just on the outskirts of Whiterun Hold. Closer Falkreath, really. Cultists have deemed it home, and have been abducting women from all over the hold to perform whatever forsaken rituals upon them...It is up to your three to go and see to this matter."

Tyr and Tor in unison gave a nod and replied together, "Yes sir." They exchanged looks of confidence and then peered to the side where the young one named Ria stood at attention with a smile, just seeming ready for a fight.

All three turned their backs once given Kodlak's nod of approval and strode for the door. Before the made it however, Kodlak spoke up.

"See Erolund for your equipment. You're each granted one weapon crafted of Skyforge Steel for this venture."

With that, they all exchanged looks of glee and departed from the Mead Hall and made their way up the Skyforge steps.


End file.
